Thursday, January 19, 2012

This girl needs more Jesus!

So the FedEx guy comes to my door, knocks...and from my vantage point behind the blinds, I can see that he STAYS ON MY PORCH! 

The following is the conversation that I had...with my head!

Me: Why isn't he leaving
Me:  I don't know!  He usually drops the box and books it back to the truck
Me:  Should we answer?
Me:  Well, he's still there.
Me:  Should we put a bra on?
Me:  Look at what we're wearing!  Do you really think adding the uni-boober* is gonna help? Besides, its not like its the UPS guy!
Me:  You've got a point...

So we opened the door and the FedEx guy hands me a package and leaves.  No signature.  "Here ya go!" and off he went.

Me and Me (at the same time):  That was weird.

So we took the package to the kitchen and opened it to reveal this:


Before you ask, no.  I did not purchase this.  I called my family and they all deny the gift.  There was no information in the box, other than a paper that had my name on it.  

Its a puzzle....who sent it?  Who thought, "This girl needs more Jesus!" and went to to purchase this book for me?

*uni-boober-  a sports bra that, when worn, gives the boobage area the illusion of being ONE long, horizontal boob.

Wait...what?!?! (with gusto, I might add...)

I forget shit all the time.  The worst is usually when I am talking to another person and I start talking, but get inturrupted by someone elses story.  By the time they are done, I cannot-for the life of me-remember what I was gonna say. 

Things I forget on a regular basis:
  • Phone calls I need to make
  • To take my purse to the store (which, by the way, I'm TICKLED that I always remember it....after checking out )
  • Dinner.  (As a work-from-home mother, one of my duties (hee!) is having dinner ready when THE HUBS gets home.)

I used to forget where I put my car keys, but I have found that if I say OUT LOUD where I'm putting them, I have a better chance of remembering where they are when I need them.  If you ever see me in the Walmart parking lot, there is a pretty good chance that you will hear me say, "Keys are in my purse." 

Last night I got up from the dinner table (with gusto, I might add...) and walked about 3 steps before realizing that I couldn't remember what I was going to do. 

Today I woke up around 5am in a panic thinking that it was Friday and that i had forgotten to do something yesterday (Thursday)...but it is *really* Thursday, and I have a sinking feeling like I'm forgetting something important today. 

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Open letter to my body

Dear Face…you do not need to have food shoved in you 24/7…you never used to and you survived then…you will survive now. Stop it!

Dear Tongue and Mouth…Stop watering at the mere MENTION of food. Seriously. Stop. You’re making the rest of us look “special” (and not the “special” kind of “special” that my mom used to say that I was!)

Dear Stomach…I swear to God that I will rip you out with my bare hands the next time you so much as purr. No purring, no growling, no bloop-bloop noises…NOTHING! They say your stomach shrinks when you don’t eat so much, well, stomach-my friend…you have surely grown in the past 5 months. I suspect you’re the size of a 2 year old since you require so much more food in order to shut you the hell up. Stop it.

Dear Abs…I know and I’m sorry. The search and rescue has ended. I’m sorry. We cannot find you. You were there the last time I looked and then one day you were gone. It’s kind of like a “Deep End Of The Ocean” thing. Now I know how Michelle Pfeiffer felt. So sad. (Do I smell popcorn?)

Dear Boobs...Way to just HANG there. Come on! Up and at 'em! I'm so disappointed in you girls!

Dear Upper-Arms…I GET IT! I saw you waving the FIRST time!!! You don’t need to beat a dead horse. I get it! You can flap back and forth all you want…I’m not looking anymore and quite frankly, I refuse to show you off anymore. I’m going to always hide you under long sleeves. How do you like THEM apples?

Dear Feet…What the hell? Why have you turned on me? Is it because of the extra pressure? (No pun intended!) How do you think I feel? Is that any reason for you to suddenly and without warning start going all sweaty-all the time? And how do you manage keeping them COLD???? Cold AND sweaty…nice. NOT! Stop it!

Dear Eyes…Can you just wait 5 minutes? I promise I am going to go to the eye doctor VERY soon. And what the crap is up with those lines around you...are you squinting too much or are tiny little face elves digging trenches around you? Either way, make it stop!

Dear Liver…Just suck it up for a bit longer.

To the rest of my body,

I know you know that I am going through a lot right now seeing as how you’ve gone through all of it with me. That being said, I don’t understand why you have chosen this time to start going to hell on me. You just wait. As soon as my brain decides to side with me, I am kicking your ass! (By the way...Dear Ass…just because the chair is 20 inches wide does NOT mean you have to be! I don’t know where you have gotten your info, but it’s wrong!) I am going to piss off each and every one of you as soon as I get back in gear. Let this letter serve as your only warning because I won’t be telling you again. Just when you think we are going to McDonalds…we might be going to the “Y” and THEN you’ll know that th
e Sheriff is back in town. I will do it. So suck it.